“Tell me, Miss Lillias!” Faris whispered. “Tell me the tale—in its entirety! Do not leave one word of it to be missing!”
Giggling with excitement, Lillias turned and closed the door to her brother’s chambers. Taking Faris’s hand, she led her to the massive bed before them, promptly sitting down on the sapphire velvet coverlet and pulling Faris to sit beside her.
“The tale was told to me thus,” Lillias began. “Lord Tremeshton—Kade the Heinous, as I prefer to refer to him—”
Faris could not help but giggle at Lillias’s favorite title for Lord Kade Tremeshton.
Lillias smiled and continued. “Kade the Heinous was out with two of his stablemen. It seems he has acquired a new mount and wished to try it—poor, miserable animal. Kade the Heinous, being the coward that he is, demanded two stablemen accompany him—in case the new mount was not to his satisfaction, so he said.”
Faris breathed a sigh of exasperation, rolling her eyes as well.
“Just what I feel,” Lillias continued. “To continue, they were there, the three of them, riding through the Tanglewood Forest. It is true, for Graybeau saw them, having been riding at the same time in exercising Jovan.”
Jovan was Lord Rockrimmon’s favorite mount. The magnificent bay was aging, however, and Lord Rockrimmon had lessened the frequency of riding the animal. Therefore, it was often Bainbridge Graybeau, Lord Rockrimmon’s favored stablemaster, who was asked to provide mild exercise for the beloved horse when Lord Rockrimmon himself did not have the time to do so. Bainbridge Graybeau was a strikingly handsome man, perhaps ten years Faris’s senior. A man to be admired—a man of honor. If Bainbridge Graybeau had seen the Highwayman of Tanglewood take Lord Kade Tremeshton to task, then it was the truth.
“There they were—Kade the Heinous, his two stablemen, and Graybeau just a ways beyond them, when from the direction of the meadow he rode, the Highwayman of Tanglewood—his black cape rippling in the breeze, the heated breath of his black steed bearing down upon them all.”
Faris smiled, delighted with the light of exhilaration in Lillias’s eyes. Lillias loved the tales of the Highwayman almost as much as Faris did. It was one of their secrets together—Lillias and Faris’s—their love for the tales of the Highwayman of Tanglewood.
“Oh, do go on, Miss Lillias!” Faris pleaded. “I am desperate to hear the whole of it!”
Lillias Rockrimmon smiled. How she adored Faris Shayhan! How thankful she was her mother had stolen her away from Tremeshton Manor to become her daughter’s friend. Lillias giggled, delighted by the luminous light of excitement flashing in Faris’s dark eyes. How plain Lillias felt in Faris’s presence. Faris’s dark hair, dark eyes, and long, dark lashes gave her the look of some magic being—as if she could gaze into the very depths of a soul, read each person’s thoughts and feelings. How glad she was Faris had come to Loch Loland Castle.
Faris seemed to love the tales of the Highwayman of Tanglewood even more than Lillias herself did. To Lillias this was nearly inconceivable—that someone could be more intrigued by the local rogue than she was—for the Highwayman was Lillias’s greatest intrigue. It was often Lillias dreamt of meeting the Highwayman, of pulling the infamous black mask from his face in revealing his true identity.
“Oh, isn’t this delicious, Faris?” Lillias squealed.
“Delicious!” Faris agreed.
“His steed reared up before Kade the Heinous’s new mount, frightening the poor beast into throwing his new master,” Lillias continued.
“Wonderful!” Faris exclaimed, clasping her hands with delight.
“Kade the Heinous fell flat on his backside, shouting at his stablemen to defend him from the Highwayman,” Lillias said. “They dismounted, drew swords—what lord provides his stablemen with swords for a daylight ride, I ask you?” Lillias said.
“Only a coward,” Faris said.
“Indeed,” Lillias agreed. Both young women shook their heads, disgusted with Kade’s cowardice.
“Pray, go on,” Faris said.
“The Highwayman did not dismount, however,” Lillias explained. “Rather his boot met with the chin of one stableman, who then found himself fairly sprawling as he fell to the ground, rendered entirely unconscious.”
“The Highwayman’s boot is not to be taken lightly,” Faris said, smiling so broadly her face began to ache.
“No indeed,” Lillias agreed. “Nor his rapier—for drawing it quickly, he disarmed the second stableman from astride his mount! Disarmed him, then met his chin with the same boot and sent him sprawling next to the first!”
Faris laughed and clapped her hands! What a story! She thought of her own vision of the Highwayman, and she could see it all in her mind’s eye—his boot, his cape, the black steed he sat. Her heart fluttered at the secret knowledge that he had once called her by name—had once stolen a kiss from her very lips.
“Naturally, Kade the Heinous was frightened,” Lillias continued. “Graybeau says Kade drew his sword, his hand trembling as he wielded it, and called out to the Highwayman, ‘Coward! To ambush such as I when no aid is with me.’”
“Ridiculous fool!” Faris breathed.
“Graybeau says the Highwayman laughed, dismounted in one swift movement, and stood before Kade with his rapier at the ready,” Lillias continued. “‘To meet you in the broad light of day with two men at your back and none other at mine?’ the Highwayman asked. ‘That is no coward, Lord Tremeshton. Yet only a coward would tax his tenants so heavily as to starve wives and children. It is a coward I see before me, and your time has come once more. Hand over your purse, Lord Tremeshton—or see your blood spilt before me.’ That is what Graybeau heard the Highwayman tell Kade the Heinous.”
“Did Lord Tremeshton strike first?” Faris asked. She must know the tale! She must know if Kade Tremeshton was once again bested by the Highwayman of Tanglewood. Certainly she already knew he had been, but she must know how he was bested. She must hear it all.
Lillias laughed. “It is even worse for Tremeshton than that! He surrendered his purse! Without offering any defense of himself at all! He simply glanced at the unconscious stablemen about him and surrendered his purse to the Highwayman!”
“Are you in earnest, miss?” Faris asked, unable to believe what she was indeed hearing.
“I am!” Lillias answered. “Graybeau said there was no confrontation beyond that. Kade the Heinous simply surrendered his purse, mounted one of his stablemen’s horses, and rode away.”
“His cowardice knows no bounds! Even in villainy!” Faris said.
“Indeed. Kade Tremeshton has ever sickened me, and news of this only sours my stomach more at the thought of him,” Lillias said.
“It is no wonder the Highwayman dared a daylight ambush,” Faris said. “No doubt he knew Lord Tremeshton’s cowardice would make the besting easy.”
“No doubt,” Lillias agreed. She was quiet for a moment. Faris watched as Lillias glanced away, to the sunshine pouring warm and bright through the window of her brother’s empty chambers. “Do you suppose, Faris,” she began, “do you suppose it is possible my own Lord Kendrick is the Highwayman of Tanglewood?”
“What?” Faris exclaimed.
“I have often wondered it, for it is on several occasions my lord betrothed has spoken to me of the Highwayman’s escapades with a certain insightfulness I find curious.”
Faris was struck silent for a moment. Could it be? No! It certainly could not! Indeed Lord Gawain Kendrick was young and strong, a worthy nobleman who despised those of Kade Tremeshton’s character. Dark-haired and boasting a well-groomed mustache and goatee, Lord Kendrick was unusually handsome as well. Yet Lord Kendrick could not be the Highwayman—for if he were, it would only mean Faris’s dreams of meeting the Highwayman in the meadow once more, her dreams of his stealing another blissful kiss—her dreams would be dashed, as waves on a rocky shore.
“I-I am certain he would have told you, miss…implied it in the least,” Faris stammered. The thought o
f it was causing her heart to ache the like she had never known. The Highwayman of Tanglewood—her Highwayman of Tanglewood—betrothed to Lillias Rockrimmon? It could not be!
“I’m sure you are right, Faris,” Lillias said, looking to Faris once more. “Perhaps it is merely my youthful infatuation with the Highwayman that causes me to think it. Still, sometimes…sometimes Gawain seems to know things…and I wonder.”
“When next your lord speaks something to cause you to wonder,” Faris began, “perhaps…perhaps we could meet in secret as we do now and…and I can hear his words and help you to better interpret their meaning.” Oh, Lord Kendrick could not be the Highwayman! He must not be!
“That is a brilliant notion, Faris!” Lillias exclaimed. “And so it shall be that next time Gawain piques my curiosity where the Highwayman of Tanglewood is concerned. I will seek you out, and we will ponder it together.”
“We will do it,” Faris said, forcing a smile.
Lillias giggled. “We will,” she said.
Faris felt a frown pucker her brow a moment. “Do you know, miss,” she began, “it even comes to me now that perhaps Graybeau is the Highwayman.”
“Graybeau?” Lillias asked.
“The Highwayman is said to be tall—quite tall, in fact. Why—Bainbridge Graybeau is near the tallest man I have ever known,” Faris said. And it was true. Bainbridge Graybeau was unusually tall, very handsome, and known for his strength. As Lillias’s eyebrows arched in astonished realization, Faris nodded.
“He is that,” Lillias said. “And handsome as any rogue ever was. As a child, I followed him around with endless infatuation. He looks to be skilled with horses—then why shouldn’t he be skilled with the blade as well? And it would explain his witnessing the Highwayman in the broad light of day.” Lillias gasped as if sudden realization struck her. “Do you know, Faris, that Graybeau told me neither Kade the Heinous nor either of his men was aware of Graybeau’s presence in the Tanglewood when they were set upon by the Highwayman?”
“Perhaps it was not so much he witnessed the ambush—” Faris began.
“—as much as it was he manipulated the ambush himself!” Lillias gasped.
For a moment, Faris’s mind settled on it—Bainbridge Graybeau was the Highwayman of Tanglewood! She could see the same thought alight in Lillias’s eyes. Still, in the next instant, both young ladies burst into peals of laughter.
“What a pair we are, Faris!” Lillias sighed once her laughter had subsided. “Meeting in secret to discuss such a rogue—to speculate his identity.”
“Well, we are not alone, miss,” Faris said. “Every soul in the entire countryside is speculating of it.”
“’Tis true,” Lillias said. She breathed a heavy sigh and shook her head as if dispelling a dream. “I’ll tell you a secret, Faris—though you may think very little of me for admitting it.”
“Then do tell me—if it is so delicious as to scandalize you in my mind,” Faris giggled.
Lillias bit her lip and paused, obviously uncertain she should share the mentioned secret.
“Go on then, miss,” Faris prodded. “Do not keep me waiting. I am far too anxious to manage patience of any sort!”
“You are my friend, Faris,” Lillias said, dropping her voice once more. “But I pause to tell you my secret—for I am not sure you truly value me as yours.”
“The greatest I have, miss!” Faris assured. “I promise it with all my heart!”
“Then you must call me Lillias, Faris,” Lillias said. “For we have been fast friends for a year now, and still you call me ‘miss’ when we are speaking thus.”
Faris smiled, her heart swelling with happiness. Lillias Rockrimmon was the young miss of Loch Loland Castle. It was soon she would be Lady Kendrick—yet it was ever she begged Faris to call her by her given name. Always Faris had resisted for reasons of her station and for fear of letting Lillias Rockrimmon become too beloved a friend. Still, she could see in the young woman’s eyes the need for true friendship.
“Very well,” Faris whispered. “Please entrust me with your most delicious of secrets, Lillias.”
Lillias smiled, and Faris giggled when her friend reached out, embracing her quickly.
“You are my truest friend, Faris! The truest I have ever known!” Lillias said. “And because it is so, I shall tell you my greatest secret!” Lillias cleared her throat, and Faris giggled as a blush rose to her cheeks. “It is almost nightly I dream of the Highwayman.”
Faris giggled—for what shocking confession was this? She too dreamt of the Highwayman—dreamt of meeting him in a fragrant meadow at midnight, of being kissed by the rogue with the Irish brogue.
“Why, that is not so scandalous, Lillias,” Faris said, “for I dream of him as well.”
“But do you dream of his coming to Loch Loland Castle, stealing you from the warmth of your bed, only to carry you to the Tanglewood and hold you in the warmth of his arms? Do you dream of his ravishing you with kisses?” Lillias sighed, delighted by the reminiscence of her own dreams.
“No, indeed, I do not,” Faris said. “For I dream of wandering through the Tanglewood Meadow, the air fragrant with dew-laden grass and new flowers. I dream of a purple-draperied sky at midnight and a chance meeting with the Highwayman where he steals a kiss from me—a kiss the like you and I may only dream of.”
Lillias smiled. “I dream he is Gawain and that he dare not tell me the truth for fear of discovery.”
Faris giggled. “He has no true identity in my dreams,” she said. “In my dreams, he is only the Highwayman of Tanglewood—though sometimes I hear his voice in my mind.”
“Indeed?” Lillias asked. “And what is the nature of his voice?”
“Deep in intonation, masked with a rough rasping to secure the truth of his identity, and thick with a brogue—like they who travel here from the green isle.” Faris hoped she had not revealed too much to Lillias. Still, the words had been over her tongue before she could stop them.
“I like your dream, Faris,” Lillias said.
“And I yours,” Faris said.
“Then let us be about our day—both with our secrets cached safely away in our hearts,” Lillias said.
“Yes,” Faris said. She thought again of her chance meeting with the Highwayman of Tanglewood—of the kiss he had stolen from her. “Both with our secrets cached safely.”
Lillias embraced Faris once more, and Faris returned her embrace. Her heart was warmed by friendship, the safe and happy life at Loch Loland Castle.
“Oh!” Lillias exclaimed. “It was nearly I forgot to tell you—Mother asked me to beg you to place a vase of lilacs in her dressing chamber the like you arrange in mine each day.”
“Of course,” Faris said. “I will do it at once, for the day is young, and she may enjoy them still.”
“Thank you, Faris,” Lillias said as the stood.
“For what?” Faris asked as she smoothed the sapphire velvet of the coverlet upon which they had been sitting.
“For being my friend,” Lillias said. “For coming to Loch Loland Castle to be my truest friend.”
“Thank you, Lillias,” Faris said, holding the tears in her eyes that begged for release. “For being mine.”
They stepped from the chamber and into the hall. What met their eyes caused them both to gasp—for there, in the hall near the stairway, stood none other than Lord Gawain Kendrick and Bainbridge Graybeau in hushed conversation.
Faris felt the hair on the back of her neck prickle, and she looked at Lillias to see her mouth agape.
“It is mere coincidence,” Lillias whispered.
“Of course,” Faris agreed. “Mere coincidence.”
Yet Faris could not rid herself of the unsettled feeling that had washed over her at the sight of Lord Kendrick and Graybeau steeped in curious conversation.
Even after Lord Kendrick had greeted Lillias, kissed her sweetly on the cheek, and taken her arm—even as she walked down the long hall of the east wing toward La
dy Rockrimmon’s dressing chambers—the unsettled sensation lingered.
She fancied she would not mind so much if the Highwayman were Graybeau. Bainbridge Graybeau was handsome, quite perfectly masculine, and quite perfectly unattached. Lord Gawain Kendrick, however, though handsome enough, would soon be married—and to Faris’s best friend. Faris decided in that moment the Highwayman of Tanglewood was not Lord Gawain Kendrick—for the truth of it would break her heart. No! The Highwayman was no one of her acquaintance. The Highwayman of Tanglewood was an Irish rogue with no other attachments save to a girl he had once met in a meadow in the moonlight. Faris was certain of it.
❦
The evening was summer-warm. A soft breeze played through the meadow grass, and twilight was just beginning. Faris gazed up into the violet of the evening sky—inhaled the fragrance of meadow flowers and moist grass.
How long should I wait for fate to appear? Faris wondered. How long should she stand in the midst of the meadow waiting for a chance glimpse of the Highwayman of Tanglewood? Yet such a man was worth waiting forever to see again. Was he not?
It was her conversation with Lillias—the conversation they had shared concerning their mutual dreams of the Highwayman that found her in the meadow. In all the times she had visited the meadow in hopes of seeing the Highwayman again, she had never felt so desperate to see him as she did now.
All the day long she had agonized, wondering whether the Highwayman of Tanglewood was truly Lord Gawain Kendrick in disguise. Further, she was certain he was not—certain that if she could chance to meet the Highwayman again, she would be even more certain. Thus, she had waited until all was dark and quiet at Loch Loland Castle—waited until even Old Joseph, Lord Rockrimmon’s loyal first man, was retired to his chamber. It was then she had set out for the meadow. It was then she hoped—Faris Shayhan hoped the stars or heaven would bless her with another stroke of good fortune.
The Highwayman of Tanglewood Page 3